Renegade Paragon
by ParagonRenegade
Summary: When Commander Shepard faces the supreme ultimatum, the final damnation, his refusal is inevitable. What gave Shepard the right to choose? The answer is simple; the people and history behind him. Initial chapters follows OC, with regular cast to follow. Somewhat AU in several respects; follows the core canon of the series :D
1. Chapter 1

Mass Effect: Renegade Paragon

By: ParagonRenegade

_Author's Note_

Hello there! Hope you enjoy my work! Leave as much negative feedback as possible; This is my first time using the site after all! English isn't my first language either, so keep that in mind :D This story begins at the end of Mass Effect 3 and then reverts to the past, sorry if there is some confusion.

_Addendum_

Seriously though, I stress the "English isn't my first language" bit above; it seriously takes me hours to write something simple like this. So if you see something that looks really out of place, or if I do something patently stupid, please don't hesitate to call me out! This also by extension restricts the size of each chapter, as translating Italian into English is really difficult to do competently for large blocks of text. Also, I may update this irregularly and infrequently given my current terminal health problems, but I hope to finish this before my death. Pretty grim, but that's not your concern. Finally, I may sometimes "update" the story that currently exists without posting wholly new content, though I try to avoid that, and you can expect a new chapter within a day of an edit.

But screw that depressing shit! I hope you like it!

**Chapter One: Last Stand**

_November 7__, 2186 07:07 UT_

_Earth Geosynchronous Orbit, Citadel Station, Unknown Subsection_

"No! I... don't believe you!"

Shepard's body shrieked at him to cease, to submit.

"Conflict is not inevit…" His side spasmed with pain, recoiling his head.

"Y…You miscalculated. For all your vaunted wisdom, for all your self-professed knowledge, you know nothing! You've learned nothing about the cycles! You are to blame!"

"_Only the weak refuse to accept reality. Your time is at an end, decide, now."_

Gasping for breath, Shepard's last shred of will was nearly consumed.

"No, _we_ will never submit to you, or your pawns! I refuse to..." One last gasp. "... _We_ will fight, _we_ will sacrifice, and we _will_ find a way. _We_ will persevere no matter the cost!"

"_Then you will die, knowing that you failed to save everything that you have fought for, and you will die in vain."_

This was it. The Battles for Elysium, Torfan, the Citadel, the Collector Base, Palaven, Thessia, Earth… They had all seemed like defining moments that would forever change not just the man, not just the species, but the Galaxy. They were all a trifle now. This was it. His words, his actions today in this moment would be unrecorded, unheard and undone. But they would not be in vain. They would resound throughout eternity as the crescendo of defiance not just for Humanity, but for all life, everywhere for all time. It fell upon him to say it, to bear this burden;

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not wept, nor cried aloud_

_Against the bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed_

In those last moments, he could see them all, looking at him, standing in solidarity. This is how they would want it to be. Shepard readied his weapon. And he did it. For her, for them... for all of them.

"You're wrong."


	2. Chapter 2

_AN:_

_When reading this, keep in mind I consider this to be a work in progress, basically a second draft. Any negative (and positive) feedback will be incorporated both in future chapters and edits of this one! _

**Chapter Two: There is No War…**

_Fifty Thousand Years Earlier_

_Invalid Calendar Date, ~53,075 B.C.E_

_Exodus Cluster, Eden Prime, Refugee Camp 5_

"All resisting sapients have fallen" said 1,273,480 voices

"Begin systematic search for stragglers" ordered 2,355,321 others

"**Consensus?**"

1,989,764,087 favour, 10,235,913 disfavour

"**Deploy all constructs and Oculi**"

The machine known as Nazara towered over its opponents' smoldering ruins, the crumbling, soon-to-be eradicated vestiges of a pious race calling themselves "Prothean". The pathetic ringleaders of their 'resistance' had intended to use stasis technology to avoid detection and somehow forestall their inevitable defeat. Nazara ensured they had become acquainted with the beauty of indoctrination however, and their plans, like all others, had failed as if they had never been attempted.

"How wasteful their resistance is", noted a single voice.

"They know not what they miss", said another.

"**The misguided militancy of the few shall not influence the integration of the many.**"

"And they will come to know us as themselves"

Nazara directed its constructs to overwhelm and deconstruct whatever Prothean dwellings immediately surrounded them. Lifting an enormous appendage, it allowed the planet's heavy gravity to pull it back down, smashing a multi-level complex that had been cleared of sapients. This bloodless and effortless example of strength would coerce whatever remaining hidden non-combatants remained into the open, easing their processing even further, while making the clearing by its thralls more expedient.

Nazara turned its sensors ever upward, and owing to its stature, 181 degrees of nothing but open morning air, clouds and moons revealed itself to it and its integrated occupants.

"_Beautiful"_, a notion 234,054,318 minds entertained

Nazara agreed; the serenity of the planet they had overwhelmed was almost obscene. It overflowed with life and energy to an extent few others matched. It would be preserved and protected for posterity, regardless of what sapients to come would do to it. It was to be an Eden. It was disgusting.

"Alert!" buzzed the integrate of an Oculus; "All resistance has been stymied, but precisely 238 Protheans are unaccounted for, including Supreme Commander Javik and Military Governor Sanra."

"Troubling news, but unsurprising." A few stray thoughts came through.

"**All corridors checked?**" inquired the collective of Nazara

"Yes."

"**Secret countermeasures or hidden facilities?**"

"None; allied forces in assemblies: Reaver, Tantalus and Guardian have scanned with all methods for additional unexplored areas or traps. None were revealed. It is likely the final neutron purge was their last line of defense; a martyrdom weapon"

"**And the remainder of the planet?**"

"Locked down completely; all remaining sapients are pending processing"

"**We shall consult the integrates for council on forthcoming actions, hold.**"

Turing inwardly again, Nazara called for a consensus on what to do next; the cycle was coming to a close and preparations needed to be made as quickly as possible.

"Destroy the planet."

12,309 for, 1,999,987,691 against

"Kill everything on the planet."

106,867 for, 1,999,893,133 against

"No Protheans should be allowed to escape the harvest; we must deploy all forces to scour the facility "

123,422,899 for, 1,876,577,101 against.

"I disagree; a group of 238 is beneath our notice. Deploy a destroyer and continue on"

544,909,437 for, 1,455,090,563 against.

"Both of you are mistaken; we should ignore them. The Prothean baseline genetic code is extremely homogenous; the rate of inbreeding amongst survivors would be unacceptable and no sustainable population could be created. We should vacate this world and report to the Catalyst immediately"

1,331,667,664 for, 668,332,336 against, and it was so.

Acting in accord with the agreed-upon course of action, Nazara informed all other platforms on the planet to finish their assigned tasks as quickly as possible; a small amount of remnant technology and a sterile population of primitives were not worth the exorbitant effort expunging them would entail. Nazara decided to leave behind only an enthralled processor ship and small army of Collectors to handle the remainder of the population; they would contribute two new destroyers to the next cycle.

Watching as its allies flew away, Nazara looked upon the masses of primitives beneath it; base, weak and individually worthless, but virtuous, strong and priceless on the whole. Lamenting the irony, it-they- lifted into the air, and continued to its -their- final objective.

_Invalid Calendar Date, ~53,073 B.C.E_

_The Citadel_

As it always was, the Citadel was a hive of activity. The massive amount of resources and minds harvested had taken decades to adequately process, but it was worth it. As it always was. Dozens of new assembly shells, laden with their synthetic bases, were held across its enormous wards being improved with their biological components. Trillions upon trillions of individuals were being improved, uplifted into… something more. The Presidial ring was filled with the final number of unprocessed bodies collected from elsewhere, awaiting ascension.

Through it all, swarms of Dreadnoughts, capital ships and destroyers were activating the Citadel mass relay to return to their battlement in the abyss of dark space, where their influence could be projected across the universe from the Refuge station... Where all of them together as a fleet could simultaneously convene. Quintillions of minds in perfect harmony, in _victory_ everlasting.

Nazara, however, would be barred from such a paradise… for now. They would become the necessary tool of the Catalyst in its stead.

"_You are our vanguard; the harvest to come is your responsibility."_

_"_**Yes.**", said two billion voices in unison.

"_All of the likely targets have been scouted on a preliminary basis; it is now also your responsibility to screen them on the grounds that I have dictated to you"_

"**Yes.**"

"_Upon your deeming the situation amenable to conquest, signal the Citadel relay and usher in the horde. Should that fail, manipulate the Keeper control signal and have them manually open the relay and take us from our communion."_

"**We are familiar with the task at hand.**"

_"Excellent. One final matter before you depart; this cycle's sapients were clearly expecting our arrival. We lost 230 capital ships, and 1238 destroyers to this conflict. Casualties that could not be replaced with what was available. This is unacceptable; the heritage of 14 species was irrevocably lost, and we cannot sustain such losses indefinitely. For the next cycle, we must pre-empt any militant galactic civilization"._

Almost irritated, the Catalyst continued;

_ "Find out how the Prothean civilization discovered our existence before the harvest, discover their methodology, their tools, and ensure it never happens again. Crush and annihilate any species that show signs of evolving in parallel to the Protheans without mercy or prejudice. Failure in your task is completely unacceptable; Do **not **fail."_

"**It_ will_ be done.**"

_Invalid Calendar Date, 52,990 B.C.E_

_The Sea of Storms_

Searching for decades for a suitable observation point, Nazara had considered nearly every candidate location. The invasions and subsequent harvests that had occurred within the last hundred million years had been slower in coming than before; the species of the galaxy were evolving ever more sluggishly. As such, the fleet's astronomical maps were nearly always out of date to a huge degree upon return to the galaxy, relying instead upon data seized from the civilizations of the Citadel. The Protheans, in a dual-edged twist of fate, had amassed a huge amount of data regarding all manners of celestial bodies. They had dominated no less than 3% of the entire galaxy, with approximately 10% mapped out to an appreciable degree. An outstanding achievement, one that had been integrated into that of the assemblage.

Naturally, there were a vast number of possible sites that could possibly host Nazara indefinitely; The dual pulsars of Tranvir output extravagant amounts of energy that would allow them to remain powered without extracting from vacuum constantly, enabling near-constant surveillance of the galaxy. Still further, the Tartarus debris field beyond the sickly-red relay could enable them to scan without fear of attack due to the presence of a Collector base, with the friction of the accretion disk allowing for energy extraction. Possibly the area they currently inhabited, the Sea of Storms; a bleak, sterile void bereft of life or value, akin to dark space.

"Many of the scanned locations lack in stealth" noted 30,003 voices

"They do, however, have abundant resources" retorted 50,345 others

"Resources are irrelevant if we are not alive to use them; the target locations are of extreme scientific value, and all are within a reasonable travel distance from both the Citadel hub and the primitives' homeworlds. We need a barren area, one that will be conductive to remaining hidden."

A stir of activity and discussion rolled through the hive mind.

"If we were to remain hidden as you propose, we would have to limit our observations to a periodic basis, which will impede the execution of our assignment. We need an energetic location to fuel our search."

"**Unity**"**; **the symbolic term overrode the wills of the integrates and imposed order and calm.

"**We will decide immediately; far too much time has been expended on indecision, you must come to a compromise**"

"There could hardly be a greater irreconcilable difference between the two positions." Two minds chimed in.

"We must try." Thousands spoke out

"We will 'try' in vain." Thousands spat back

"**Unity"**; all was silent once more.

"**One final call for consensus" **The hulking consciousness of Nazara motioned, each thought capable of moving mountains.

"**Stable, high entropy environment****_"_**

1,034,066,274 for, 965,933,726 against

"Unacceptable ratio for decision!"

"Must consider new options."

"New motion required."

**"No, I will decide, and end this. Unity."**

All voices were silenced once more, with their dread holding their mental tongues as much as the order. Nazara calculated the possibilities, considered all options, explored all outcomes. It quickly arrived at a decision.

"**The Perseus Veil"**

Quelling all dissent and quieting all doubt, Nazara was Sovereign.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: … There is Only the Harvest**

_Invalid Calendar Date, ~40,621 B.C.E_

_Planet Praetorius_

"**Give in now, it is so much easier than what is to come.**"

Nazara had spoken those words to a race, recently identified, that had discovered Prothean relics. That in itself was inconsequential; millions of species had progressed through analyzing the ruins of those who came before. Their laziness and inability to progress independently was not the issue at hand. The species in question, named "Luminaire" by the Protheans who studied them, shared their near-unique sensory ability to read information through physical contact. With the shared ability, the Luminaire had easily explored the relics they had found, accessing all the information stored within- including information on the 'Reapers'. Their study had marked them for death.

The Luminaire had been at a complete loss as to what to do; they had full knowledge of what had come before and would again, and even had they fully comprehended it, they could have done nothing about it. Their most advanced weapons had been sticks cobbled together with string, their most potent energy source being burning decomposing animal fat, their fastest means of transportation riding oversized insects. They were utterly helpless - rather, they had been. Nothing of the Prothean harvest could be allowed to survive.

Nazara descended upon their nations and settlements, destroying their simple roads and dirty dwellings, smashing was little infrastructure they had. It burned their farms and their stockades, culled their herds and incinerated those who fled. Enthralled swarms of seekers and husks overran what little was untouched by their master, utterly destroying all those who _dared _to defy it.

Those who surrendered were harvested, those who resisted died. And they all resisted. A single sweep of its main gun killed millions, and in less than an hour, the few who were left were dying. Nazara moved, city to city, village to village, offering its ultimatum, demanding obedience. When it was inevitably refused, it killed them all. When all that needed to be done, was, fewer than a thousand remained. They could not afford a single community, a single individual surviving, not with what was at stake. It manipulated a local virus until it afforded 100% lethality and affected all life on the planet, and unleashed it upon them. It waited a full month for it to take its course, and finalized its plans.

"_Insufficient guarantee of security, recommend further action"_

1,789,434,220 for, 210,565,780 against.

It divided the planet into ninety sections running from pole to equator, and finally took up a high orbit to begin sterilization. It covered the surface the planet in a sheet of fire, methodically wiping out everything in the current zone before moving to the next. Praetorius' deepest seas were vaporized; it's twisted, dead husks of jungle were expunged; it's mountains liquefied and filled their was only a short time before the whole world had been doused by plasma, the entirety a broiling sphere of melted rock. The now-tainted and charred atmosphere was on fire, burning on its own accord; a rare phenomenon the Sovereign noted and archived. In the days and weeks to come, the enormous solar winds of its F-class parent star would blow the atmosphere of the lifeless planet into space, were the world would finally cool and crystallize into an amorphous shadow of its former self, and its life story would come to a permanent end.

Confident every flicker of life had been extinguished, Nazara aimed at the sites of every known Prothean relic and fired off a round at each, ensuring their destruction and the cessation of the threat. They had almost certainly been vaporized in the initial bombardment, but no precaution was too conservative in this… 'instance'. It readied it's main cannon and took aim at the planet's most vulnerable fault line, and fired off two consecutive maximum-power rounds. The first blew off the planet's crust and upper mantle. The second cleaved off the majority of the hemisphere facing Nazara. It overcharged it's main cannon to a dangerous degree for a third and final judgement, and fired off the round. It directly impacted the planet's core with the force of a colliding planet, inducing limited fusion and causing it to collapse. The planet, in it's final death throes, was rent apart in a spectacular explosion that, for the briefest of moments, eclipsed the star which it orbited.

"**Their knees have been bent."**

Regardless of the collateral damage, its mission had been a full success, and it returned to its abyssal abode to wait. And watch.

_Invalid Calendar Date, ~36,476 B.C.E_

_The Perseus Veil_

Awakening after a four-thousand year period of slumber, the Sovereign had to pour over billions of accumulated reports and alerts;

"_Species: 230,075,336 through 230,075,355 are showing progress; 338, 343 and 349 have already developed intercontinental sovereign governments. 336 has invented intensive agriculture whereas 350 has prematurely discovered water desalination._ "

The thrall relaying every report from across the galaxy continued;

"Apart from the currently-deceased 230,075,335, no awareness of the 'Reapers' has been detected beyond the vague religious mythos of the Prothean genetic experiments, who now refer to themselves as 'Hanar'"

"**Monitor them closely; if anything approaching practical understanding emerges from them, they are to be exterminated and their planet purged. Leave immediately and relay my orders to all forces present."**

"At once."

Yet another thrall came before its Sovereign to take its comrade's place in reciting the reports;

"The remainder of the galaxy has been scanned and searched as per orders; twenty sapient species are present, fifteen of which show indications of developing space travel before the coming harvest."

"**Twenty?**"

"Yes; another race has been discovered past Relay 307 in the receiving system. They have had Prothean intervention in their developmental cycle. It is likely they were subjected to genetic manipulation and augmentation in the hopes that they would become technologically adept in time for the Protheans to employ them as cannon fodder against us. "

"**Display statistics."**

A flood of information and light washed over the collective minds of the Reaper, bathing them in all the knowledge needed to make an assessment.

**_Mass Relay Data_**

**Accessed Via Relay: **307 (inactive)

**Type: **Secondary (938 Light Year Range)

**Anchor: **Secondary Body; in system deep cold (2nd Dwarf Planet)

**Nearest Hub: **36.7 Light Years

**Hub Size: **Moderate (8 Primaries, 1 Secondary)

**Alert: **Relay is frozen in water ice and inoperable

**Relay Jumps from Citadel: **2

**_Relevant System Data_**

**Primary Type: **Star (Single)

**Star Type: **Main Sequence; G2V

**Star Stability: **Immediate; long-term brightening

**Star Age (Billion Years): **4.58

**System Age (Billion Years):** 4.79

**Significant Secondary Bodies: **8 Planets, 147 Dwarf Planets

**Significant Tertiary Bodies: **21 Ellipsoid Moons, 324 Other

**Significant Quadrinary(+) Bodies: **3 Moonlets

**Bodies with Life: **10,000 +

**Bodies with Multicellular Life: **14

**Bodies with Animate Multicellular Life: **4 (3rd, 4th planets; 6th moon of 5th planet, 6th moon of 6th planet)

**Bodies with Sapient Life: **1 (3rd planet)

**_Relevant Planet Data_**

**Orbital Position: **3rd

**Satellites: **1

**Environment Type: **Type 2c Habitable

**Dominated By: **Brackish ocean, Semi-arid desert, Glacier, Coniferous forest

**Alert: **Short-term cyclic ice age

**"**_Current developing sapient race is of a bipedal placental mammalian configuration; currently in three distinct subspecies though two shows signs of being subsumed into primary, smallest variety. Preliminary scans show below-average cranial capacity, limited strength, poor sensory organs and inefficient body plan. Unlikely to provide sufficient challenge in upcoming harvest; unlikely to ascend to level of galactic civilization without access to relay."_

"**Pre-emptive harvest."**

830,988,321 for, 1,169,011,679 against.

"**We will delay until the time is right"**

With billions of reports and thousands of tasks ahead, the Reaper turned its faculties to other, more pressing concerns than a group of inconsequential primates. They would persist. For now.

_Invalid Calendar Date, ~7,780 B.C.E_

_Shrike Abyssal, Heshtok_

"_Species 354, 351 and 339 have been prematurely eradicated."_

"**Through what means?"**

_"Self-imposed nuclear obliteration; all lifeforms on their respective planets have died, and the planets' atmospheres have been desiccated"_

"Shameful" thought several million minds.

"Wasteful" thought millions more.

"**Irrelevant;" **their Sovereign opined.

"**All are expendable in the face of the whole. Their losses are insignificant; such basic creatures have no place among us."**

Brushing aside the internal bustle, the machine descended upon a tribal village of "Vorcha"; hyper-resilient and adaptable vagrants whose lack of social order and unity had left them in the darkness of ignorance and strife. All of that was meaningless; their massive numbers and extremely malleable genetic code made them excellent foot soldiers and husks. They were useless otherwise. It released billions of seekers and larger Collector units to gather several thousand for processing and repurposing; many new thralls would be needed in the face of the resurgent biological civilizations;

**_Turian_**

_Carbon/oxygen/water base; arranged with dextro-amino acids which will confound colony planet development. Great strength and resilience, excellent bone density and cranial capacity. Rigid genetic structure and inorganic radiation plating makes poor choice for conversion. Species extremely militant; Suggest massive first strike._

**_Salarian_**

_Carbon/oxygen/water base; arranged with levo-amino acids. Vast Intelligence and cunning combined with poor physical attributes guarantee passive interaction through indirect action and espionage. High population growth rate guarantees massive harvest, though poor adaptability to foreign conditions renders conversion secondary priority._

**_Volus_**

_Carbon/ammonia/water-ammonia base; arranged with levo-amino acids. Physically vastly inferior to galactic standard. Above-average intelligence, resource availability/distribution and gregarious disposition ensure mercantile trends and expedient conquest. Homeworld environment extremely rare; small population projected for harvest. Suggest as first target in upcoming conflict to disrupt biological species' economic ability to fight._

The Sovereign continued through the dozen others that mandated attention; _Human, Raloi, Asari, Batarian, Yahg, Quarian, Drell, Hanar, Elcor, Krogan_ and _Rachni. _They would all inevitably fall, and be incorporated into the fold. Before that, more resting and waiting had be done, to prepare for the coming storm.

_November 7th, 500 B.C.E_

_The Perseus Veil_

It was time.

Nazara recalled all its deployed forces from their hidden observation posts and latent scanning positions. All of the primary target species - Asari, Turian, Salarian, Quarian, Volus, Elcor, Hanar and Batarian – had expanded to rule the galaxy and were none the wiser to their impending annihilation. The Human, Raloi, Yahg, Vorcha, Drell and Krogan species languished in dark ages, unable to climb out of their filth to reach an appreciable level. They would be dealt with in time.

The harbinger of the arrival signaled the central control unit of the Citadel relay, and prepared for the initial assault. Their objective would be to kill the relay's inhabitants and annihilate any retreating forces before they could reinforce other positions. Upon that objective's completion, all mass relay travel would be disabled and the archives of all settlements downloaded from the Citadel's memory banks. The resulting slaughter would last no more than a century, and the plot of the Reapers would begin anew. As it had tens of thousands of times before.

Nazara waited. For days. Weeks. Months. Years. Never had its brethren taken such a length of time to invade; they were _always _prepared. It signalled for the Keepers to physically open the relay, and waited for a period of time... for which their was no reward. Vastly outnumbered, the collective mind of the Reaper unanimously consented to investigate what happened in a stealthy manner. Stealth options for a 2 kilometre-long dreadnought were understandably meagre, so its search would need to be through intermediaries and agents. It dared not show itself or its two attendant destroyers, so Collectors and the indoctrinated would necessarily be its pawns. The investigation would be slow, and the galactic self-destruction loomed on the horizon

The civilizations of the galaxy sat pompous and arrogant in their false security, blissfully unaware of how close they had come to ascension, oblivious to their impending self-inflicted annihilation. No matter. Looking onward towards the future, the Sovereign calculated the possibilities, and slowly and surely drew its plans against them.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN:_

_While the characters here will technically be "OC's", they have been mentioned multiple times throughout the games. Consider this an "elaboration" of what is present already. The next handful of chapters should be considered a prelude to the main story._

**Chapter 4: To Forge a Paragon**

_April 9__th__, 2154 C.E._

_Earth, United North American States, "Old" Toronto_

The mountain of a man that called himself Andrew Williams moved through the dense crowds of the old city quarter, easily pushing aside the few who didn't give him a wide berth. He came to the meeting spot, the old diner and bar on the corner of Jane and Finch, the best dive in town. It was also 'coincidentally' the loudest public place, for any less-than legal 'business' discussions for those in said line of work.

_"Jeb's Diner! Best food in the galaxy since 2074!"_ A ragged, repurposed advertising robot boasted. It wasn't true of course, but nobody went there for the food. He had never seen a diner quite like this one; it was a "diner" in much the same way that a submarine was a boat. Sure, it served food, had checkered floors and had a greasy Eastern European man at the register to get your order wrong, but it really didn't count.

Entering through the door, he was immediately greeted by the cheerful and liberally-clad waitress, also known as the reason people went to Jeb's.

"Hey gorgeous! The usual?"

A nod and a smile.

"On the Red's bankroll?"

"Yep."

"Right this way!"

A skip and a _delightful _bounce later, she seated him and handed him a menu.

"Call me the moment you need _anything _Andy!" she added. The waitresses here were renowned for two things here; their prompt service, and their cheap 'service'. Those days when he could indulge were behind him, but Andrew could still appreciate the oldest career path the world had to offer.

To his surprise, Shepard was not waiting for him; he was late. His friend rarely called him to talk shop, but when he did, he was never late. Something was obviously wrong, and the big man didn't like it.

"Ah, well."

He ordered a meat lover's pizza pie and the most alcoholic drink he could find.

"Size?" His bubbly waitress asked.

"Large."

"Hmm… alright. Now, what size pizza do you want?"

"Funny, Mindy."

A huge grin spread over his friend's face as he deflected what must've been her hundredth pass at him.

"Ha ha, you love it! Anyway, what size drink?

"Oceanic."

"Right away!" She winked at him, and with her suggestive smile in tow, she sped away to fetch his stuff.

Flipping through his omni-tool as he waited, Andrew went to his phone list, running through his contacts until he came to the one he wanted: _Espina, Ashley_.

Ignoring the annoying throng of people near him, he dialed her number and impatiently awaited her reply. A ringing sound came from his tool for a brief moment before a frowning and angry, yet beautiful face came up.

"What do you wa-? Oh, Andrew!"

"Hey Ash, I take it you were talking to your mother?"

"You're a regular Nostradamus." She sighed and twirled something in her hand off-screen. "But yeah, mom."

"That explains everything, heh. So what'd she say?"

"What didn't she say?" Ashley flashed her engagement ring as she parted her lustrous black hair and pushed it from her face.

"Let me guess; 'Why did you say 'yes' to that retarded meathead Williams?' or 'where did I go wrong when I raised you?'" He put on his biggest asshole smile as he waited for her to respond.

"Something like that. She's such a…"

"Or 'How could you settle for such a loser?'…. Oh! Almost forgot my favourite one! 'You're marrying that stupid beefsteak whiteboy?'"

"Shut up Andrew."

"Yes ma'am."

She looked around the room she was in, prompting Andrew to follow suit for no particular reason. She looked... anxious.

"Anyway, you need something?"

"Did you talk to Shepard earlier? He called me to Jeb's but didn't show."

"Yeah, actually, just a few minutes ago. He sounded frustrated. Well, frustrated in the way _he _gets frustrated."

"What'd he say?"

"The usual load; asking for money, asking for help on 'the next big score!'... you know the deal."

"God damn me if I don't." Classic Shepard.

"Yeah, he was bullshitting, but he was really worried about something. He said he was going to the diner, so sit tight and shut up until he gets there."

"'Kay"

"And if you even _smell _a waitress I'll cut your balls off and sell them to a..."

"I'll keep that in mind hon." An angry woman was dangerous enough without having intimate knowledge of knives and firearms. Of course, he was engaged to one who did.

"You'd damn well better do more… er… less!... than that!"

Mindy came up with a gigantic pizza pie and his requested oceanic drink impossibly fast and looked at him knowingly. Andrew came up with an idea to bug them both.

"Don't worry so much; none of the girls here even hold a candle to you." He said with a smile. Ash smiled ear to ear suspiciously, and Mindy did a cutting motion at her neck.

"Yep, uh-huh, I'm sure of it."

"But the guys? God Ash, if you saw them…"

"Shut the hell up!"

"Ah don't fret! '_Tis better to have loved then lost, than never to have loved at all."_

Ashley was not amused to any appreciable degree; "Thanks, Casanova."

"Hah! See you later honey, I love you."

"I love you too, stay safe."

He had a sudden urge to say one thing in addition, but before he could even open his mouth she reached for a button outside of what Andrew could see. She gave him one last smile and wink, and flipped the switch off. Mindy laid down the remainder of his meal.

"You wound me Andy." Andrew actually recoiled at how fast everything had been prepared and laid out.

"You seriously went behind the counter, made this and delivered it in less than five minutes?"

"'We finish quickly' is our motto here at Jeb's, babe."

"Interesting coincidence."

"Yes, quite the coincidence."

After giving another adultery-inducing smile at Andrew, Mindy practically leapt up and happily went to dote on another poor fool waiting by the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts for all of five seconds before he _recognized_ the fool at the door.

_One hour later_

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"That's seriously your plan?"

"Yep."

The towering man recoiled somewhat at his lanky friend's 'idea'; he had just suggested they betray the Reds, in the most audacious and dangerous way possible, for basically no payoff. 'Audacious' was not a word the big man liked to attach to his plans. Or use. He preferred to call it as it was, 'desperate'.

"That's crazy! You're crazy!"

"Ya' have to admit though, it's pretty audacious." the thin man said as if he was selling something.

"Shepard, we could die doing this!"

"What? We'll be fine Chewie! The craziest plans are always the least expected! "

"And the least successful." He responded gruffly, not much appreciating being compared to a Wookiee.

"Such a pessimist, this guy 'eh?" Shepard said as he gestured at the customers in the adjoining table, hoping for nods of solidarity. An observation of his sexually immoral practices with his mother was all he got in return.

"A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist." The bigger man noted, standing to leave. His legs and most of his chest, once hidden by the table, revealed themselves once more and brought his height up to a wholesome 7' 2". Looking at his friend one last time; "I'm done with this, keep me out of your stupid plans from now on okay? See you later, jackass." Turning for the door, he took a step to leave.

"Scared, Williams?"

Stopping, the walking tank turned back. Shepard new damn well what he was doing, and Andrew "Chewie" Williams didn't like it for a moment. Shepard continued; "Afraid they'll make fun of your name again, _Willard_ Williams?"

"Stop bringing that up already! I changed it years ago!"

"Worried they might beat you down again?"

"Shep!"

"Awwwww maaaannnnn, somebody's mad!"

References to the… 'embarrassing' incident weren't enough. Williams walked back towards his friend and gently –relative to the size of the man- placed his hand on the shoddy table in front of Shepard, his palm and fingers outsizing the half-eaten pizza and its pan. His voice took on a melancholic tone.

"Listen; I have a home, a good, somewhat legal job and a girl who makes me happy."

Looking around for any eavesdroppers, he continued;

"I'm not doing anything to endanger that. I want a life, Shepard, I want a _family_. You can keep doing what you do, get rich quick and die young for all I care. Just don't make me pay for it. Don't make _Hannah _and _the kid_ pay for it."

"That's who this is all about!" He had to watch his volume; the area was loud, but there's always someone listening. "Do you think I want my kid, my _son, _to grow up like me? Some fucking loser on the street? This is a cut-and-run job Andy, it's not about the cash."

Looking at him dead in the eye, the larger man sat back down. _Shepard? Caring about something other than money and substance abuse?_

"Explain."

Once again looking around to check for scryers, Shepard and Williams leaned closer to each other, almost touching.

"Phew, this is some serious sexual tensi-"

Slapping him with the back of his gargantuan hand, Williams expressed an unspoken desire for him to shut the hell up.

"Damn it! That's going to bruise!"

"Tell me already!"

"Fine! Ow! God damn! The Guardians struck a deal with me... fuck man!"

"What sort of deal?" Completely unsympathetic to his friend's pain.

"In exchange for the Red Sand in the depot, they…" He shifted in his seat, nervous about spilling the details. But if he couldn't trust Andrew, he couldn't trust his right hand. "… get me and my 'associates' off-world"

This was unexpected to Williams, who listened intently.

"They said they could get us anywhere we wanted; Mars, Demeter, and check this shit man, even _Eden_ fucking_ Prime_!"

"That's just… wow." The big guy could barely interpret this news, this opportunity.

"Yeah, I thought it was a joke at first; the Guardians coming up to the second-in-command of the Reds and asking him for help _against_ the Reds? Fucking crazy bastards, I love 'em!"

Shepard was full of smiles, Williams was suspicious; they would only ask if they were desperate, or very well-informed. Shepard had been having reservations about holding this line of work, and they just happened to ask for help right as his discontentment peaked?

"And they said they could set you up anywhere? "

"For the price that Sand will fetch, _anywhere. _They even got new identities set up!"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"Bullshit, Shep."

It sounded way too good to be true, and as it was usually said; "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is."

"What? We go in, accomplish the mission and get the hell out ASAT."

"ASAP, idiot."

"Whatever. So wadd'ya say… _pardner_?"

"No."

"So you'll just let me do it alone then? Let me collect the reward all by myself?" Pouting slightly and raising his voice's register, he attempted to keep his friend off-balance. He was losing him; he needed the _weapon_.

"Uh huh." _More like collecting a bullet to the brain, _he entertained.

"Some friend you are!"

"We're friends?" Williams chuckled.

"Laugh it up asshole! Seriously man, come on!

"I'm not getting killed for some dumbass plot you thought up in five minutes!"

_Shit. Deploy the weapon! _Shepard thought.

"So you're sending me and _Ash_ into the fire alone? No backup?" He ensured the emphasis was correctly placed, and fought a grimace.

"Damn straight I… Wait, what? 'Ash'? As in 'Ashley'?

"Yep, asked her today. Agreed like it was nothing; that's a hell of a girl you've got there, _Willard._"

"You're such a bastard."

"Well… yeah, if you want to get technical."

Thinking for a long moment, Williams considered his options. Shepard watched through the window in his eyes the battle between the logical "_Shepard is being a dickhead again" _hemisphere of his brain and the _"Do it for love and friendship" _emotional side. Emotion won. With the aid of blackmail.

Springing to his feet with anxiety; "Fine! I'll help you with your damn plan. But if I die, I'm haunting you."

"I knew you'd help bro!" Attempting to give the standing -and vastly taller- Williams a punch on the shoulder, Shepard's thin fists instead recoiled off his bicep as if they had hit a steel plate. Laughing, Williams sat back down and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yeah, yeah whatever; I just don't want you to get hurt. You also sorta' blackmailed me using my girlfriend and future wife, but I'll let it slide."

"Not mad?"

"If I was mad, you'd be dead."

"I love you, _Willard_."

"Shut up, _Josh_."

Shepard looked down at his now-empty sitting, long since demolished by his insatiable appetite, and looked back up at his friend, who knew exactly what he was going to say next.

"Hey, spot me for twenty bucks? Somebody has to pay for my meal. "


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Placida Coram Tempestate**

_April 9__th__, 2154 C.E. 23:07 UT_

_Earth, United North American States, "Old" Toronto_

Joshua Shepard walked through the trashed parkway on his way home, a whisper on the wind his only companion. He adjusted his leather jacket and swatted at a wrinkle in his dark blue jeans; they were dirty and worn from decades of prior use and lack of washing. His vision went from his body to the road; it was hardly a road anymore, as almost nobody owned a car, at most a bike. Instead there was a ramshackle village of dwellings alongside the way, spilling out _on _the road, made up of loose fabric and discarded trash, mostly old vehicle chassis and rebar. It was partially built along the side of a collapsed wind turbine, its days of power generation long since passed, while the frame was looted and stripped. Everything was lit by lantern, hung overhead by chicken wire, with a handful of incandescent and neon lights adding the slightest hint of modernity. There was a veritable swarm of downtrodden and battered people, young and old, closing shop and taking stock of their 'homes' before heading to sleep or other less legal pursuits. An old Italian couple Shepard knew as the Sarneses were arguing on their porch about what Shepard guessed was rather trivial matter; "Non posso credere che hai dormito con quella puttana!" Sounded innocent enough.

There were two identical twins with ridiculous African names with too many clicks and clacks whom he nicknamed Danny and Jammy, who looked like they were raising a 'wall' to replace a nearby discarded piece of sheet metal. "Danny, Jammy! How goes it?"

They glowered for a second at each other, then Jammy turned with a mocking smile and said; "Fook oaff!" Obviously not in the mood to talk, Shepard moved on and left them to chatter and click amoungst themselves and work on… whatever it is they were doing.

Looking left, he saw the little boy who ran as his mule from time to time, Chris, who was cooking a pathetically small snake over a fire with a stick. "Chris! You little shit, how's it going?" The boy looked like he needed a pick-me-up. "Oh, Shep! I'm... fine, just getting a bite to eat before bed." He needed much more than a bite; he was a bag of bones. "Uh huh, I bet." Shepard was rather unconvinced. The boy looked sadly at his roasted snake, then back at Shepard. "Need something carried?" Shepard answered simply and directly; "Yeah, I have a valuable package." He handed the boy a roll of twenties, enough for a few weeks of good eating. Shepard would make-do without. Without either saying another word, he gave Chris a pat on his shoulder and continued on.

A lone woman of advanced age and acting ability stood leaned against a relatively intact wall, clutching a cigarette, a rare commodity. She left very little to the imagination in any sense of the term. Given how there weren't any cig butts on the floor and how fast she was sucking hers down, Shepard suspected she had, had her lips around another commodity recently. Obviously Shepard knew her on a purely professional basis.

She turned her head up at him and gave a smile with a semi-toothless grin; "Hey sooga', lookin' for a…"

He knew where this was going and cut to the chase; "I'd rather stick my dick into a blender, Brenda, thanks." He tipped his imaginary hat and flashed a smile at her now-scowling face and she mouthed "You're such a ballsack" or had she spoken with her toothless mouth, "Yoor sooch a ballsack", and Shepard continued out of the town, and back into the grim darkness of the road home.

The silence was deafening. There were only the musings of insects and distant clangs of heavy industry, with what he swore was the occasional howl from a Wolf_. _In a brief flash of intellectual insight, he remembered that wolves had been extinct on Earth in the wild for going on a hundred years. _At least there arestill some on Mars and Demeter, _a thought that brought little light to the desolate path ahead; their absence only made the unrequited darkness of the road worse. It allowed far too much time to think and stew about 'things'; His soon-to-be son, his deal with the Guardians, his plans for the future, Hannah…

His head was pounding with a headache; his long hours of ordering around his fellow degenerates had put a strain on him. The Reds were big on organization, at least the higher-ups like him were, but the grunts who did the dirty work were big on getting paid and doing as little work as possible for it. It was a pittance, of course; almost everything they earned went into the gang immediately, unless Strauss 'skimmed' it for 'discretionary spending'.

"Fucking asshole..." He muttered under his breath. Strauss "The Boss" Kabel didn't found the Reds to restore order to the destroyed city, like the Oriental Cabal did in Los Angeles or the Seventh Column in Boston. He didn't do it for a sense of belonging and brotherhood like the Guardians did. He did it for money and power, and exploited the situation to suit his own ends and achieve selfish goals. Shepard's headache worsened.

_Sounds like you, _his subconscious opined. And it was right. He was contemplating betraying the group he'd run with since he was six; he'd been with Strauss for thirteen years and never wavered an inch from the path of a typical "Loyal Red". The payoff had been modest at best and afforded a mediocre lifestyle on a good day, but it was better than living out of the landfill like the million other fools who still lived in the desolate city. _I do it for them, for all of them._ It was a hard sell, even to himself.

He drew a deep breath, catching some of the 'fragrant' fumes from what remained of Industrial. The air quality was shitty everywhere you went in Canad-… "_The United North American States"_ anyway, but huffing on the air coming from downtown was like tarring your lungs. Covering up his nose and mouth with his shirt to no avail and still looking for a distraction from his thoughts, he turned to look at the 'sprawling' downtown Toronto. It took him all of five seconds to extract every detail of the scene, and it only depressed him further; there were only three Hi-Rises still standing, one of which -the ancient Toronto Dominion Tower- had partially collapsed and was used by squatters. The other two were relatively modern buildings set up by Eldfell-Ashland Energy to oversee 'redevelopment of the area', code for 'Steal money from the poor idiots who live there'. Every other 'building' was a dirty industrial plant or yard, with century-old decayed condos interspersed between. He recalled from his childhood watching a Chinese fighter jet kamikaze the base of the CN Tower; it had fallen into hundreds of other buildings, including the incomplete space elevator, and killed fifty thousand people in what he morbidly called "the biggest game of Dominoes the world has ever seen". The city and region had pretty much fallen apart already, but combined with the invasion and a second global economic collapse, it was the final nail in the coffin; nearly all of the residents had left for Europe or the west coast and all of southern Ontario had become a desolate wasteland as a result. Only the poorest and most desperate had remained, with few exceptions. He could only imagine the devastation had the space elevator been completed. At the _very_ fucking least, the old tower's saucer section had been turned into a restaurant again, one of the few quality ones still around, so that crazy Yellow bastard could at least be credited with some good grub. Irony, since he was sleeping with the fishes.

_He didn't drown, idiot. _Shepard's inner voice was being rather unhelpful today, as it was most days. Perhaps if he listened to it more often his life wouldn't eat so much shit, but he didn't live life by intuition. Shepard lived by thinking ahead, planning and executing plans quickly and flawlessly. Thinking about the long-term consequences wasn't part of that; get the job done no matter the cost, screw the repercussions. _Look where it's gotten you. _Again, with the helpful remarks.

He had a sudden surge of resentment and fatigue, the kind he got when he hit a "speedbump", as Andy had called it with his characteristic understatement. He took a baggie with a fine, luminous blue powder out from his pocket, and looked it over once. "Fine cut indeed, heh." It was rated as $100,000/gram, so it damn well better be. He poured half into his hand and without hesitation drew it to level with his chin throwing it into his mouth and tossing back his head. The unrelievedly awful taste lasted for but a moment before the effects started. He clenched his fists as he continued walking; the fresh infusion of Element Zero flowed through his veins, invigorated the nodules throughout his body and gave him a rush of adrenaline that he desperately needed to stay alert. Looking down at his clenched fist, he noted a few small, moving blue lights under his skin, showing him that he was ready to try again. _Don't do it, _an inner voice warned. Ignoring the instinctual warning, he stopped walking and took a look at his fists. He focused all attention, all thought, all his anger into the whites of his knuckles and palms of his hands. He willed it to work, to obey his orders, to _bend_. It paid off; a sudden swirling corona formed around his fist and forearm, illuminating the battered road and a nearby overturned car. With a sudden boost of confidence, Shepard took a look at the car he saw nearby; supercompact, about 1000 Kilos, much too large to manipulate. He diverted his gaze from the car to the detached car door sitting next to it. "Perfect."

Outstretching both hands, he did a forward-backward motion with his arms and let loose. "Lift!" He knew you didn't have to say anything for it to work, but his dabblings in fantasy had given him a certain preference. A massive surge of static electricity lanced from his hand to the destitute door, momentarily shocking the aspiring biotic Shepard. Finally after an awkward delay, a pathetic bluish-purple orb of energy coalesced in front of his hands and flew in erratic circles, vaguely moving towards the door. It neared the pavement and impacted the door, only to rocket off and ricochet back right at him as if it had a personal mission of vengeance. He tried to duck, but the projectile was moving so fast that the only change he affected was to have it hit him in the forehead instead of the chin. He fell like a sack of lead potatoes and hit the ground as hard… and stayed there for a good while. _Told you, dumbass. You casted a warp field, not a lift field; you do up-down to lift_. With his headache only getting worse, and his annoyance with his gloating inner voices not helping, he dragged himself up, feeling even more drained than he did before his laughable display of power. "Goddamn stupid Mass Effect shit."

What kind of name was "Mass Effect" anyhow? It was pretty catchy, if unimaginative; the force that had an 'effect on mass' was called 'mass effect'. Stupid smartass scientists. Red Sand was ironically named as well, given that it was a glowing blue, literally as far from red as it was possible to be. He had always wondered why it was called as such, and it pissed him off. _Probably named after Mars_. Of course, Mars wasn't that red anymore and there wasn't really that much sand regardless; most of it had been converted into dark soil decades ago or buried kilometres underneath its new ocean.

Clutching his head and giving it a good shake, he looked at the nascent moon above him, brightly lit an off-colour blue in a chemically tainted sky. It sat above, mocking him with its indifference, above the concerns of the blighted world beneath. His mom had used the phrase "Once in a blue moon…" when he was younger, to talk about things that came only once… or not at all. It was fairly ridiculous, since pollutants made the moon appear blue most nights, but it had originally dated back to the 18th Century when the air was clear and clean; before the poverty of Humanity had been made apparent. It made Shepard think of what was one of kind, of what mattered to him. That narrowed the list right down to… a single thing. _There's two things now_, _don't you think? _His mind once more chimed in, and for the first time all night, he agreed with it.

_One hour later_

Shepard stepped up to his home's front door, the entrance to a modest home, opulent in comparison to its surroundings, which wasn't saying much. It was after midnight, and the light of the moon cast long, ominous shadows wherever it was felt.

He took his keycard and his mechanical key out from his pocket, pulling out a few dollars and the packet of red sand out with it. He unconsciously scrambled to catch them before they fell to the floor, sweeping up all four items in one smooth motion. With a small spring in his step, he recovered from his grab and did a little twirl, whistling the complimentary "Phew!" sound as he patted himself on the back for his daring rescue of his abused substance. Quickly unlocking the door, ensuring he was completely silent, he peeked through the door and scouted for any potentially murderous pregnant women. Detecting nothing but the sound of his own anxious heartbeat and the high pitched crickets outside, he entered the solid darkness of the front foyer, slipped off his shoes and jacket, and made for his bed. If he was quick and silent, Hannah wouldn't…

"**_Joshua Matthew Shepard_**!" The light flicked on, revealing the aforementioned frightening pregnant Hannah staring with an anger that could eclipse the sun.

"Cock sucking Christ!" Shepard drew his pistol and pointed it at her feet, driven by habit. His alarm transformed into relief, then back into alarm upon the realization that he was screwed.

"Don't do that! Goddamn, you know how I am!" He holstered his weapon and walked back a step from the woman who promised bodily harm.

Hannah Walker stood, revealing a curvaceous form and a pregnant bulge, and practically _stormed _to the imbecile she called her boyfriend. She gave him a solid backhand across the face, causing him to recoil in anger. Making a grotesque frown and parting her blonde hair, she grabbed the skin of his neck and drew his face to hers. She gave him an angry kiss, pulled back with her usual aggressive grace, and gave him a light head-butt to the nose. "Shit! Ah, fuck!" It would be bleeding very, very soon.

"You rat bastard! Where have you been! I've been worried sick!" Her previous rage gave way to concern, _laced_ with rage. "Here I am, the size of a house while you go gallivanting around doing God knows what! What in the hell were you doing?!"

"I've been busy lately! You know that! I had to talk to Andy and Ash, and you gotta' know they live all the way downtown! What did you want me to do? Use a car? Take a bus?" Public transportation in quasi-abandoned megacities was notoriously… unreliable. And cars? It would be at most a week until it was stolen and in a chop shop, never mind the complete absence of H2 stations from the city.

"No, but you can at least call me to tell me these sorts of things! For all I know you're face-down in some ditch somewhere, or shot by some thug, or…" Her eyes glistened and her voice trembled.

"Hannah… I'm sorry, but everything's okay now!" Doing his best to sound reassuring and comforting, he placed one hand at her side, another on her stomach, and faked a smile as genuinely as he ever had. This bothered her even more than she let on.

"No, it isn't Josh! How long are we going to go through this, how long will I have to worry about you? I'm not a soldier like you, I can't take this anymore!" She looked at him, a tear falling from her cheek, almost pleadingly. This gave him pause, she had never called him a_ soldier_; he wasn't so sure he liked it.

"Everything I do Hannah, I only do for you, you know that? Well… maybe not so much anymore…" He rubbed her baby bump gently, and put a kiss on her cheek. She smiled at him for the first time in quite a while; "… But, y'know, all the same. And stuff." He really didn't have words, nor did he need them. "But… I… care about you, and…" He trailed off, nothing else to say.

Hannah's thin smile parted into a grin and she cradled her belly with both hands. "House and all?"

Shepard never genuinely smiled, moreover, he did it only in the presence of a select few individuals. She was one of them.

"House and all."


	6. Chapter 6

_AN:_

_ I had meant to do this a long time ago, but the looming spectre of death has a way of putting off your plans. Anyways, if you see something sub-par, if you think I rush etc… don't hesitate to rip me a new asshole. :D Relative to the date that I publish the edit of this chapter, I'll post the next chapter the following day. _

Josh Shepard dove to the ground, frantically attempting to avoid the enemy fire and protect the fusion plant immediately ahead of him. A sudden bout of light-headedness fell upon him; Where the hell was he? He glanced back, only to see dozens of monstrous forms, all brandishing strange weapons, converged on him from every angle with a single macabre goal. Shepard was in tough, with heavy cover and a good angle on his aggressors, but he was outnumbered and outgunned so horribly in every way that it actually elicited a small smile from him; hilariously bad odds. He steeled himself for what he needed to do. He glanced makeshift detonator in his hand, rigged to cause a catastrophic overload in the nuclear reactor, a plan that had become dangerously viable. What was terrible about the situation was not all of that however, but the fact that he had no conscious control of his body; it was if he were observing from afar through false eyes. Even his thoughts wandered without the possibility of control:

_I'll never see either of them again… _

Shepard sprang back to his feet and pulled out his pistol, acquired one of his ugly four-eyed targets and ended its life with a perfect shot between the two top eyes, splattering his three nearby compatriots with a shower of gray matter. Exploiting the seeming turn of attention away from them, a bird-like alien and a… _blue woman_ stormed forward towards new, vital cover almost within slapping distance of Shepard, only for both to immediately be cut down by a blue-violet biotic detonation from the sole Human in the field. His victory was short lived, as four more of them took their place immediately, with even more on the way.

_I'll never hold her in my arms, or take him to fish…_

There was nothing left for him to do, there was nowhere left to run nor an objective to advance on. It was just _him_, against all of _them. _A sheer terror enveloped him as he headed off his completely unknown attackers, defending a position five minutes prior he had no idea existed. He tried to envision a way this ended well, but there wasn't one in sight. The entire area was in ruins, half the people captured and hauled away, the other half were dead. Only two people had gotten away, those two lives that Shepard's sacrifice today would save. _That... those two lives are worth it. _Using his pistol and biotics, Shepard cut a swathe through the teeming hordes of terrible monsters, and he felt a certain bemused peace settle in his chest.

Suddenly, a massive and repugnant creature stepped from a shadow, revealing a nearly eight foot stature and an unbelievably ugly saurian face. It had a hump that rose like a mountain on its back, with a face twisted into a scowl that deformed its armour-plated head even more than before. Shepard was mentally stunned for a brief second, not having any idea what he was dealing with. Was he fighting aliens? Where in the hell was he? What planet was this? He unconsciously raised his left hand and formed a biotic corona around his entire body. '_I've never done this before…'_ He thought as he unleashed the pent up force directly at the new beast and it froze in its tracks, bound with strange curtains of energy. He quickly fired off a few rounds at it, all of which managed to hit and ricochet off, only to hit and kill several others around it right before whatever Shepard did wore off. With its ethereal bindings finally dissipated it let out a roar, a fierce battle cry of anguish and rage. It yelled many words Shepard didn't bother interpreting, rolled his eyes back into his skull and charged with reckless abandon towards his trapped prey.

_I'll never see his graduation._

Shepard rolled into the open in a move of desperation so he could use the muscled mountain as cover, fired a few futile shots coupled with biotic bolts and braced himself; a small silent prayer escaped his lips. He didn't see or feel the impact of the alien's forearm, but the shattering sounds of breaking ribs and the terrible squelch of rupturing organs betrayed the obvious. There was no pain, only a sudden rush of rage and remorse accompanied by the silent surge of warmth that accompanied massive internal bleeding.

_I'll never hold my grandchildren._

The alien smashed him against a wall, shattering his spine and breaking both his legs. It reached with its clawed, grotesque hand and grabbed his face, only to smash it into wall with unbridled fury. All the while, the other pirates and assorted scum came to surround them and observe the spectacle. Shepard, having managed to hold onto his Carnifex throughout the struggle, brought it to bear, shooting the monster in the face twice and blasting a chunk out of its head plate. It staggered and collapsed backwards, dropping Shepard to writhe in a pile.

The other invaders, completely uninterested in their fallen cannon fodder, gave a few hearty laughs and waved their guns in the air; they had won. A few rounds were fired in the air in celebration as they turned to the crippled man, the last resistance on the planet. The hideous leader of the group came forward from the back ranks and gave him a sacking to the groin, and stomped on his broken limbs.

"Pathetic Humans, groveling in the filth, taking what is ours!"

He produced his rifle, grabbed it by the barrel and savagely brought the butt down on Shepard's back, shattering what remained of his intact ribs. Had he been able to breathe, he would have screamed.

_It is time_.

Shepard clutched at the small remote concealed by his fist, fumbling unseen for the trigger. He was stopped by the commander, his monstrous face contorted by hate and fervor. Grabbing Shepard by the throat and emitting a guttural sound, he lifted his helpless victim to his level. The imposing stature of the muscled alien dwarfed that of the lightly-built Human. Combined with muffled squeals of pain and desperate clutching at his neck, Shepard was true to the greasy alien's description; pathetic.

"Did you really think you had a chance? Did you think your '_Alliance_' would save you?!"

Overcome with disgust, he gave his charge a punch to the stomach. Shepard, contorted in pain, found the remote's switch in his hand and flicked it open.

"Charn Hedat… _Mindoir_ is only the start! Every Human world, every outpost, every single _one _of your kind is destined to bow before the might of the Hegemony!" Clearly this asshole had some serious unresolved issues at home. "You are just the first of many, the first to feel our might!"

Then something happened which surprised Shepard, which was not something to take lightly, given the situation. His attacker's voice took on an unspeakable, _robotic _yet _ethereal_ tone, his four eyes boring into his victim with a sudden sinister glow they lacked before; "**_Now you will die, knowing that you failed to save everything that you fought for, and you will die in vain._**"

_Goodbye son, goodbye Hannah, I love you._

Shepard unfurled his hand, revealing the detonator to his aggressor as he activated it, and he did something he did not expect; he smiled. Through his agony and curdled by blood staining his mouth, he spoke one last time to the last soul he would ever see. And he thought of them, for that last precious second.

"Is that so?"

**Chapter Six: That Which Will Come**

**_April 10_****_th_****_, 2154 C.E. 06:43 UT_**

**_Earth, United North American States, "Old" Toronto_**

Shepard woke with a startled gasp, his breathing laboured, his skin doused with sweat, his mind at ill-ease. He instinctively reached for the gun on his holster, only to find he was wearing nothing but underwear and the aforementioned sweat. His eyes darted round the room, from the door to the window, and found not a soul aside from Hannah and their unborn brat. There was no sound, barring the light breeze permeating through the curtains, with a distant chorus of crickets and cicadas.

A shuffle to his left was accompanied by a sigh and a morning groan, and Hannah drew her head up heavily. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, a question more loaded than she realized. "Yeah, just shaking off…" Shepard trailed off, as he didn't actually know the answer. "… Just shaking off some sleep."

She saw right through him; "Bad dream? You know you scream in your sleep, right?" No, he didn't know that. "Don't try and hide it Josh. What was it about?"

"Nothing, just dreaming about tits and blow, you?"

"You're such a dog! Tell me!"

"I'm fine, really, just anxious about tomorrow… well…" He looked at the clock, which read _6:43 AM_. "…today, it's a big day." He sat up fully, burying his face in his hands and massaging the bridge of his nose. "Big day…"

Hannah raised an almost imperceptible incredulous eyebrow, and said the obvious; "Strauss get you to do something stupid?"

"You could say that." _Yes, yes you could._

"Jesus Christ, again?! Damn it, can't he just leave us alone for once? He's been riding us for years! Seriously, fuck that guy!"

He turned his head to his partner and gave her a hopeful smile; "Han, don't get PMS on me now, it's fine."

"Don't call me 'Han', hon'."

"Han, Han Solo, Han-nibal Lector, Han-dy, Attila the Han, Han…"

"Shut the hell up and make me some eggs already. Go! Fetch and gather!"

He gave a false smirk and stood up, "Maybe later, gotta' get a head start today." He needed to call Andrew and Ashley, not to mention get the all-set from the Guardians. Then he needed to kill Strauss and dismantle the Reds with one fell swoop, then flee the planet and pray for a miracle, but he would cross those bridges when he came to them.

"What? Already? Damn!" Hannah had never hidden her disdain for Shepard's line of work, nor her loathing of his lifestyle, but she had never been visibly distraught as she was now. _She might know what's up, _Shepard's mind chimed in, but Shepard dismissed it quickly as irrelevant. He threw on his usual attire and holstered his gun, while Hannah rose and did the same, an angry glare on her face directed at nobody in particular. Shepard grabbed his heavy, armoured boots and strapped them on, which elicited a small sigh of distress from his mate, who was likely mulling over the seriousness of the 'job' her partner was about to embark on. Shepard moved to their closet and sifted through all of his possessions. He grabbed the old Chinese combat exoskeleton that accompanied his boots and laid it out on their bed. Giving one look at Hannah, he began to put it on in total silence, with Hannah just sitting there, watching as he prepared for the worst in the most direct way possible.

Finally pulling on the final greave over his shin, Shepard righted himself and looked straight at the woman he had accepted as his charge. _She's worth it._ "Han, do me a favour; stay somewhere else for the day, somewhere safer. Anywhere but here, somewhere you've never been before, lots of people, open spaces." Hannah diverted her gaze to the ground; "Josh…" He didn't have time to beat around the bush, so he just went out and said it; "Do it Hannah, or I'll kick your ass!" Her sour face sweetened ever so slightly; "All right! Jeez! I'll take care of a few things here, then get out. I promise." That had to be good enough; he was probably being paranoid, but the thought of something happening to her, _them, _when he was this close to getting them to safety permanently… They stared in each other's eyes for a long second, with Shepard smiling ever so slightly before he gave the slightest nod, and he turned out of their room, towards the front door. Hannah followed, silently, right on his coattails, as if she could follow him to where he was going. He practically flew down a small flight of stairs to get to the exit, and she did the same, which was quite the accomplishment for a woman so encumbered by child. He opened the door and took his left foot through, and she grabbed him by the arm and turned him around violently. She looked him in the eye once more, and drew her mouth to his, giving him a long, wet kiss. "You'd better not die!" She said as she drew her head away.

"No promises now that I've gotten the taste for it."

"Come back to me smartass, or else!"

He nodded, and turned to leave through the door. He made it halfway down the walkway when he froze mid-step. He had the sudden urge to turn around, so he met that urge halfway when he turned his head to look back at her. She just stood there sadly, clutching the door frame with her thin, effeminate fingertips. He let his gaze linger for a moment, then turned, wordlessly and silently, to do what needed to be done.


End file.
